


Let's Try Something New

by Xenobotanist



Series: Garak Bashir Kinktober 2020 [1]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Cardassian Anatomy, Consensual Somnophilia, Edging, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Feathers & Featherplay, Food Kink, Improvised Sex Toys, Kinks, Kinktober 2020, Knifeplay, Light Bondage, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Playing Doctor, Roleplay, Scent Kink, Sensory Deprivation, Vers Characters, Workout sex, excessive use of the term "my dear"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:08:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26808640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenobotanist/pseuds/Xenobotanist
Summary: A collection of Garak/Bashir stories as the couple explores new ways to spice things up in (and out of) the bedroom. Kinktober as told by Xenobotanist. Expect some Cardassian kinks to pop up!---Each chapter is labeled with a title and subject, if there's something in particular you're looking for ;)(formerly titled "Garak/Bashir Kinktober, but now that's the title of the series)
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Series: Garak Bashir Kinktober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985425
Comments: 59
Kudos: 86





	1. Julian Introduces Kinktober

**Author's Note:**

> Don't expect these to be heavily beta'd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just conversation.  
> I realize "Kinktober" probably has different meanings to different people. This is my take on Julian's take.

“Garak, do Cardassians have anything like… kinks?”

A bland expression met him across the table. “Could you repeat that?”

“Um, do Cardassians have any kinky practices, like, in bed?”

Garak raised his brow ridges. “I’m not sure that translates. The first time, I heard you question if Cardassians have crinkles, and the second time, you asked if we have deviances. Seeing as neither holds any relevance to our conversation regarding Iloja’s ‘Seasons of the Seas,’ you’ll need to clarify.”

Julian wasn’t sure that Garak was being entirely truthful, but he forged ahead anyway. “Well, we  _ were _ discussing the Cardassian calendar year, and it made me think back to the months on Earth, and I realized it’s October there.” His companion didn’t look impressed. “Some of my friends called it, ah, Kinktober. It was a time that they tried new things with their sexual partners. Or tried new partners.”

Garak looked a little more wary now, although also vaguely interested. “I thought it was common practice for couples to try new things anyway. Otherwise the bedroom would quickly grow dreary.”

“Well,  _ kinks _ are things considered somewhat outside of common practices. Things that maybe not everyone finds stimulating. Although I suppose that depends on the race. Average sex for a Klingon is quite kinky for a human. And some human forms of copulation are downright offensive to most Ferengi.” Namely, anything involving a woman wearing clothing. “But sometimes it’s fun to try new things that you wouldn’t normally consider. It might not work out for both partners; maybe only one gets something sexual from the experience, but it can also strengthen a relationship. It helps you learn your boundaries, and your partner’s. And sometimes, you just end up with a good laugh.” Julian relaxed, content that he’d painted a fair picture for his companion.

Garak leaned over the table, eyes serious and voice lowered. “Julian, are you intimating that you’re…  _ bored _ with our current arrangement?”

“No! No, sorry, that’s not what I meant.” The tailor’s cheek twitched just the tiniest bit, and Julian realized he’d been had. So he continued. “ _ But _ I wouldn’t mind trying a  _ few _ new things. Like, I don’t know, roleplay. Or… light bondage. Or something.”

At that, Garak sat back idly in his chair. He twiddled his napkin between the fingers on one hand. “I would think you’d had  _ enough _ role play after that fiasco in the holosuite.” Julian blushed. “Although I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that someone with a spy  _ fetish _ would show proclivities towards being tied up.”

Oh, Garak  _ definitely _ knew what Julian was talking about earlier. Damn that infuriating man. He tried to regain control of the conversation. “Or  _ tying _ someone up. There’s also handcuffs and other methods of restraint.”

“Handcuffs? How coarse. I happen to have several fabrics in my shop that would make more than adequate bonds.”

“ _ Anyway, _ I was originally asking if Cardassians had any kinks. I’m sure it’s against the State or something, but every race has them. I bet there’s one just for defying orders. And probably another one for  _ following  _ them. ‘We must shag for our duty to the Cardassian empire,’ or some such.”

Garak’s eyes had begun to wander about the bar, but his mouth quirked up in that mischievous, enigmatic smile of his, but he didn’t deign to reply.

Julian prodded at him. “In  _ fact _ , it’s my experience that the more repressed a race is, the more deviant their behaviors are behind closed doors.” He smirked. “If that’s the case, then Cardassians must be positively  _ debauched _ when given the inclination and opportunity.” He wondered if Garak had ever been so inclined. He  _ did _ tend to lean towards some of the less conventional notions in his people’s ideologies. They weren’t  _ officially _ xenophobic or homophobic, but there were no openly gay or mixed pairings, either. Yet here the tailor was, shacked up with a human male. And he did nothing to hide his technological competencies either, despite engineering and coding being predominantly women’s fields on his planet. But he’d never suggested anything even slightly beyond vanilla in the seven months they’d been intimate. Well, nothing more than his willingness to give as well as receive.

The roving blue eyes finally returned to their table, where they lit upon the open bottle of kanar, almost as if they’d been avoiding it until this specific moment. “I don’t know what gives you the impression that we’re a sexually repressed race, my dear, not when we’re so  _ open _ about our interests.”

“ _ What _ ?” Julian couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Every Cardassian he’d met was prim and proper (except for Gul Dukat), and so exceptionally manicured and put-together that he couldn’t imagine them as anything other than the stodgiest, most pristine lovers.

“Well, we walk about with our neck ridges on blatant display, and our women even wear necklines to reveal the chula. Not to mention the blue makeup they apply to their chufa and  _ special _ scales. It would be as if a human walked around shirtless with rouged nipples.” Julian had just taken a sip of synthale, and at this, he nearly spit it out. 

Garak stared pointedly at the decorative glass bottle sitting between them. “And we drink  _ kanar _ in public settings. How much more obvious can we get?”

Julian had a feeling he was about to be educated.


	2. Thick Like Syrup (sensory deprivation & unconventional sex toy/insertion of foreign object)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s start off with a Cardassian kink!  
> CW: this includes a graphic depiction of a nonsexual object being used sexually

“Okay, okay, you’re right about the makeup. It _does_ call attention to some of your more _sensitive_ body parts. But kanar?” Julian didn’t see how alcohol could be tied to a kink, unless you counted it lowering your inhibitions. Although, now that he thought about that, maybe that would be part of the appeal for a Cardassian.

Garak canted his head and regarded him with lowered eyelids. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation somewhere a little more private.”

Julian’s pulse leapt. Maybe Garak would provide a hands-on demonstration with his education. “Yes! Certainly.” Did he sound too eager? Probably. He stood up anyway. “Your place or mine?”

His companion stood much more slowly and deliberately. “I believe mine would be most… _conducive_ to the discussion. Bring the kanar.” He made the request sound like a command, and Julian grabbed the bottle automatically before even wondering why Garak didn’t just take it himself. But when he gripped the neck, the Cardassian’s pupils dilated, and he licked his lips. Experimentally, Julian rubbed his thumb over the twisted neck. One of Garak’s hands reached out to steady himself on the chair back. Oh, this could be _interesting._ He lifted the container carefully, and marched off toward the exit, leaving his companion to follow behind.

Their trip up the turbolift and through the habitat ring was mostly subdued, but in a quiet, anticipatory way. Julian could feel his nerves buzzing pleasantly from more than just the alcohol, and he tried to keep the rousing bulge in his trousers under control. When they entered the quarters, Garak directed him to the dining area and handed him a stemless glass. “Could you pour some of that in here, and then put the bottle in the sink?”

Intrigued, Julian did as he was told. He filled the glass halfway, leaving about 4 centimeters of liquid in the base of the jar. He set it down carefully in the sink and then stood off to the side. Garak plugged the drain and turned on the water, setting it to warm, then bustled off to a cabinet. “Why don’t you retire to the bedroom and make yourself comfortable? I just have one or two more things to attend to here.” 

His voice had taken on a deeper timber that resonated pleasantly in Julian’s core, and the human complied willingly. He stripped off his jacket and debated removing the shirt and slacks as well while he listened to the sounds from the other room. The water shut off, and Garak entered the room. In his hands was just the tumbler of kanar and a small pipette, which he set on the nightstand. The doctor eyed the items, certain that one of them had been pilfered from his infirmary. In fact, he could see the Starfleet Medical emblem etched into the surface of the bulb.

Julian kept his clothing on, but watched as Garak leisurely unhitched his tunic and trousers, drawing them off with care to fold and set aside. This, in itself, was not unusual for his fastidious tailor. But this time around, knowing that _something_ was coming but not _what_ , the slow striptease held ever more appeal than usual. The thermal underclothing came next, the shirt sliding up and over, the leggings peeling over hips and down the legs. Julian drank the sight in, aware that only a few centuries ago, his own xenophilia would have been considered a kink. The intricate ridges and scales certainly held a textured attraction for him.

Garak reclined on the bed, his gray body on display, and patted the mattress next to him. Julian seated himself and waited for instructions.

“How much do you know about the Chu’en, Doctor?”

Julian’s eyes flitted to the inverted teardrops that decorated the Cardassian’s forehead, upper chest, and lower waist. “They’re vestiges left over from your reptilian ancestors. They had extrasensory capabilities, detecting ultraviolet radiation and certain frequencies of sounds. Some Cardassians claim to have retained some of those abilities, and it’s theorized that those with training in hand-to-hand combat and, ah, _espionage_ , hone that awareness to their advantage, even if it's subconsciously.” 

Garak’s smile had turned predatory. “Yes, I imagine being able to detect an elevated heart rate or spike in body temperature could be utilized adeptly in spycraft. Those are often cues that the person being interrogated is lying.”

“Not that you’d know anything about that,” Julian teased. “But please, go on.”

“ _You_ were the one explaining, my dear.”

“Well, that’s about the extent of my knowledge,” the human replied. “Our medical database focuses more on malfunction and epidemiology than vestigial structures. And what Tain offered certainly didn’t cover anything at all about Cardassian sexuality.”

“No, I suppose not. It wouldn’t do to have our more _intimate_ secrets revealed to our enemies.” Garak laid a hand on Julian’s leg. “But you, my dear, are already privy to a fair share of my personal weaknesses, and have proven yourself amply trustworthy to an enormous degree.”

Julian sobered at the oblique reference to the time that his friend had suffered under the influence of a malfunctioning mental device. He had learned a great deal of Cardassian physiology in a short time during that episode, but it had not been a pleasant experience for either of them.

Garak squeezed his thigh, bringing him back to the present. “All Cardassians still have bundles of nerve endings present in their Chu’en, making them rather attuned to stimulation, as I’ve sure you’ve noticed.” Julian nodded, glad for the return to their original topic. “So you can imagine, then, that filling them with something would inhibit their receptivity.” Julian had an idea where this was headed. “Filling them with something dark and viscous would dull their ability to collect most wavelengths, whether light or sound or otherwise.” 

The human’s eyes traveled to the items sitting on the bedside table. “Would it be kind of like blindfolding a human?”

Garak considered. “Maybe both blindfolding with a translucent cloth and muffling the ears. Not completely, of course, but enough to _diminish_ the entry of input.”

“And Cardassians consider this sexual? Sensory deprivation?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

Julian pictured himself in Garak’s place, prone on the bed with his eyes covered and something over his ears. Not being able to see or hear what the other man was doing. Yes, that had some possibilities.

Garak gestured to the table. “Would you care for an illustration?”

Julian didn’t need a second offer. But first, he removed himself from the bed to draw off his own clothing, except for his underwear. He could use a little sensory deprivation down there for now, if he wanted to keep his attention on Garak. After he settled back down, he filled the dropper with kanar and turned back to his lover. “Close your eyes.”

The blue eyes fluttered shut, and Julian took a moment to admire the long lashes and decorative ridges that outlined the face. He bent over, breathing into the chufa. Garak twitched under him, testament that the spot was indeed delicate. He kissed the lip of it, then delved his tongue into the depression. 

The tailor inhaled a shaky breath and hummed. “Taking some liberties, are we?” 

“You never said not to.”

Garak hummed again but said no more.

Julian kissed the chufa one more time before backing off, then held the pipette above the divot. He released a single drop and watched for a reaction. Garak’s lips parted. Another drop, and another. He continued until the liquid reached just below the rim. “Are you still able to talk, or would that upset the kanar? Should I grab some towels?” They should have thought of that earlier, really.

Remaining stock still, Garak answered. “I can still speak. And towels won’t be necessary if you remove the kanar later.”

Interesting. Garak seemed to believe that he could keep himself from moving during this encounter. And he didn’t specify how the liquid would be removed, but Julian had a sneaking suspicion that it wouldn’t be the same way it was administered.

He refilled the dropper and moved down to the chula. This, too, he explored with his mouth. The tailor squirmed a little, but no sounds were forthcoming. Julian released more drops until the ornamentation was full. His cock was starting to throb gently, begging for a little attention. But he ignored it, wanting to carry out their endeavor to its completion. Another squeeze and release drew up more liquid. He shuffled down the bed, giving himself a better view of Garak’s ajan. The ridges around the vent were beginning to swell and grow blue, like a lizard putting on a mating display. 

He cautiously spread Garak’s legs apart and maneuvered himself between them. He was terribly tempted to lick more than just the final Chu’en, to taste the glorious entrance that extended just below it. But he held back, and shakily released the final droplets until the chuva was complete as well. Finished, he sat back to observe.

“Julian?” His partner sounded unsure of himself.

“Right here, love.”

“It’s the oddest thing. I can feel the bed caving in where you’re seated, but it’s as if…” Garak frowned. “It’s as if you’re a ghost. A phantom. My mind is saying that no one is there.”

Julian slid down and off the bed, watching the tailor press his lips together. He paced around to the side, careful to keep his footsteps light.

Garak’s nostrils flared, like he was trying to pick up a scent. “Human poetry and songs mention the phrase ‘to fill up one’s senses,’ but for a Cardassian, the phrase has a somewhat different connotation. It means that you make a person blind to everything but yourself. It’s not often complimentary, except in a situation like this one.”

Julian shook his head. Even naked and sporting alcohol balanced in three cavities of his body, Garak couldn’t help but lecture. He allowed himself a moment to just take in the picture, and stroked his hand over the fabric of his briefs. His cock jumped at the touch, and a bubble of precum emerged from the tip.

Garak sucked in a breath. “Just what are you doing over there, my dear?”

“Enjoying the view.”

“I always knew you were a voyeur.”

Julian scoffed. “Said the pot to the kettle. I know how much you like to dress me up in the outfits you design. And to watch me take them back off.” He continued to brush at his crotch. “What do we do now?”

The placid hands shifted over the blanket, suddenly tightening. “Now, you get the bottle.”

The human gulped. This was taking an unexpected turn. He removed the container from the sink in the other room and dried it off, noting that the glass had heated up from the soak. When he reached the doorway, he paused, not sure where to go with the item. “I have the bottle,” he announced quietly.

Garak started to nod but caught himself. A single drop of kanar trickled from his chufa. “Surely you’ve noticed the unusual design of the neck?” The corkscrew twist was a defining characteristic of the beverage. “And did it ever occur to you that it matches any particular feature of the Cardassian anatomy?”

Julian had to think for a moment. Garak’s penis, called a pr’Ut, was most definitely _not_ spiral shaped. But it only took a second to understand what the man was referring to. “Your ajan?”

A pleased smile bloomed. “Another vestige, I believe. From days when our ancestors had to be very _discriminating_ in their selection of partners, and mating was not meant to be easy.” Garak opened his eyes, their color even more piercing than usual. “Although you navigate your way quite efficiently.”

Julian approached the bed. Yes, he’d learned that a roll of the hips at the right time was highly effective. He glanced down at the object in his hand, then at the man supine on the bed. “Are you saying that the kanar bottle was shaped to resemble…your insides...?” He trailed off. “Or that it’s used like this _because_ of its shape?”

“What do _you_ think?”

“I honestly don’t _know_ what to think. You’ve shown me a side to Cardassians that I was unprepared for.”

“Do you wish to stop here?”

Julian gripped the glass in his hand. It wasn’t so different from any number of toys humans utilized, he supposed. And bringing up kinks _had_ been his idea. Heart thumping, he kneed his way back onto the bed. “No, let’s go on.”

“Have you ascertained what comes next?”

“I--I believe so. Although if I do anything wrong, _please_ let me know.”

“Of course, my dear.” Garak closed his eyes, and Julian could see the muscles in his neck and chest visibly relax. The knob-shaped stopper was firmly in place, and he hoped it would remain that way. A trip to the infirmary would _not_ be a pleasant way to spend the evening. 

He tilted the bottle downward, watching the viscous, deep blue fluid glide into the neck. It occurred to him that it was about the same consistency as the secretions that had begun to leak from Garak’s seam. 

He was never going to be able to look at kanar the same way again.

Despite his anxiety, Julian was becoming unbelievably aroused. His cock strained in its prison, aching to take the place of the item in his grip.

He traced two fingers over the swollen ridges framing Garak’s ajan. They filled and blued even more. He then dipped inside and spread the lips. A gasp sounded from above. Julian touched the stopper to the entrance, then slid it in. Garak’s thighs clenched. Feeling a deep ache building up between his legs, he pushed the bottle in further, watching it slip through the slick, satiny walls. “Oh gods,” he muttered. In further, further, the glass disappeared into the cleft. At last, it came to a stop.

Garak’s legs trembled on each side of him, and another drip of kanar escaped, this time from his chuva. 

Julian pulled at the bottle, withdrawing it oh-so-slowly, and the tailor let out a strangled whimper. He drove it slowly back in and out, setting up a sedate and steady rhythm. His free hand slipped under his waistband to take hold of himself and rub at the pounding ache in his member.

Garak started to moan, and his hands clawed at the blanket under him. “Oh, Julian. More. Faster.”

It wasn’t like him to be vocal in bed, and Julian couldn’t resist obeying. He sped up both hands, plunging the bottle more quickly in and out of Garak while encircling his own cock and pumping it vigorously. Out of curiosity, he twisted the container on the next insertion, counter to the twirl of the glass. Garak bolted up from the bed, eyes wild. “Julian! By the Seven Sands…” Kanar ran from all three of his chu’en, painting blue stripes down his scales. He swallowed audibly, then leaned back onto his hands. 

Julian didn’t halt, and his companion didn’t seem able to take his eyes away from the item being engulfed and revealed by his body. He watched Garak stare down at his thrusting hand for a minute more. “Lie back down, love,” he murmured.

Garak returned to his back. Julian slid the bottle back in as far as it could go, then left it there. He crawled up the side of the bed to gaze down at his lover, whose eyes were closed again, but he was panting and quivering. Julian ran his tongue above one ridge, collecting the escaped syrupy liquid so that it wouldn’t run down Garak’s face. Next was the chufa, which he cleaned thoroughly as well.

He relocated to the chula, where the kanar had spilled into the hollow of the gray throat. He slurped it out, then delved into the divot of the chu’en to sweep away the remaining drops. Garak twitched his shoulders.

Last was the chuva. Julian’s mouth grew dry at the sight of the jutting bottle just below it, angling into the air and bobbing up and down with every one of Garak’s breaths. He laved his tongue in a circle all around the curved ridge, cleaning up the small puddle of liquid that had seeped out. When he suckled at the chuva itself, the Cardassian cried out and arched his hips. “Oh, Julian. Take it out. Please.”

The human hurried to comply, and the glass was immediately followed by Garak’s everting pr’Ut. They both emerged with a slick, wet sound that did nothing for Julian’s self control. He reached further down to grab at his scrotum and massage the orbs inside. When he checked on his lover’s face, it was to see the man watching him intently.

“I’m glad to see that--” Garak sucked in a breath. “That you’re enjoying yourself. But we’re not finished yet, and I’d hate for you to miss the next part.”

It was just like Cardassians to draw things out and have multiple steps. But Julian couldn’t help wondering where else this would take them. He freed his hand and then removed his last item of clothing and waited at attention.

“If you remove the stopper, you may use the remainder of the kanar. But only if you can promise not to spill.”

Was he suggesting what Julian thought? “You want me to pour it…?”

Garak nodded. “Fill me, Julian. First with the kanar, and then with yourself.”

Julian scrambled back between the gray legs and pulled the plug from the bottle. He almost dropped it from the slippery coating around the neck. He tipped it back over, tucking the mouth into the entrance of Garak’s ajan, and watched the liquid dribble out into the crevasse, thick like syrup. The hips beneath rose up, pressing against the glass until every last drip was out. 

He set the container carefully on the ground next to the bed, and then climbed back up to position himself over Garak. Locking eyes, he lowered his hips until their erections were lined up, and he slid up and down gently, slick and tapered caressed by thick and velvety. Maintaining eye contact, he grabbed his cock and guided it down below the pr’Ut and into the shuddering hole. The muscles contracted around him, like he was being swallowed. “Oh… oh stars, Elim,” he breathed. It was even warmer and wetter than ever before, and he thought he could detect the faint squelch of the kanar bathing his member in the deepest part.

Garak pulled him down against his chest and whispered in his ear. “Fuck me, Julian. I want to feel _you_ inside me now, your hot, smooth, alien organ. I want your seed to replace every last drop of kanar. Can you do that for me, my dear?”

Julian crushed their mouths together, and began rolling his hips in the way that he knew ignited all of the right spots within the ajan and would drive his lover insane. Despite all of their play with the kanar, Garak tasted cool and metallic as always, his tongue and lips as ardent as ever. As the man began to tremble beneath him, he switched to the thrust that came more naturally, and a wave of heat began to pound in his groin in time with the rhythm. Their hands found each other and interlaced, and they clung tightly, digits growing numb with the pressure. Julian lunged forward and back, rocking harder and harder as Garak whined under him. 

“Julian. I- I’m--” They both surged together, crying out in tandem. Julian buried his face in a scaled shoulder and shuddered as a molten flow swelled though him. They held the position for an interminable moment before gasping and groaning in counterpoint as the peak ebbed away.

Untangling, Julian extricated himself and rolled onto his back. “What the--” He bent his head to watch his softening phallus, then collapsed backward. “My cock is blue. It dyed my cock.”

“Your lips, too.”

The human threw an arm over his eyes. “Tell me it comes out.”

The pause was too long to be comfortable. “Well, it doesn’t react that way to Cardassian skin. But I assume it isn’t permanent. Besides, you _did_ mention that experimentation occasionally results in amusing tales,” Garak added reasonably.

“Fuck.” Julian dropped his arm and surveyed the content tailor lounging next to him. “If I had known…”

“If you had known what?”

“If I had known how you felt about _kanar…_ ” He shook his head. “Is that even a real fetish, or did you just make it up?” 

Garak avoided his gaze and stared at the ceiling. “Who’s to say what’s a real fetish or not, Doctor?”

Julian supposed the non-answer was an answer in itself, but he was currently too jumbled up to decide.

“I do believe this means that our next encounter will be of _your_ choosing. Do you have anything in mind?” Garak sounded very calm and conversational, as if they were discussing the weather and not a new way to be shagged senseless.

“There are a few things I’ve never tried before.”

“Only a few? Have you been holding back on me?”

Julian harrumphed. “A few things I’ve never tried before that I _might_ be interested in. There are some things I don’t ever plan on trying. But give me a day or so to decide.”

“Do any of them involve being tied up, like you mentioned earlier? I _do_ have an awful lot of textiles at my disposal…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to TerokNorTailor (I think, let me go look it up) for the Chu'en.


	3. Feather Light (featherplay, light bondage, orgasm denial)

Julian’s arms and legs were spread out wide, like a human starfish. His feet were tied so far apart that there was a constant burn in his inner thighs. He was going to feel like rubber when this was over, and tomorrow he was certain to be sore.

Garak sat on his knees between Julian’s legs, still fully clothed, although in his favorite silk pajamas. He looked calm and patient and entirely too pleased with himself.

He took the pure white feather in his hand and stroked it up and down the top surface of Julian’s turgid cock, so lightly it was barely a brush. The human whined in the back of his throat. It wasn’t enough. The tailor moved to the sides, tickling along each length of the member with his toy. Julian bucked as shooting lines of painful pleasure etched through his nerves.

The feather took a maddening course onto his groin and then down along his right leg, tracing delicately over his skin and fine hairs. He could feel himself break out in chills and a sweat all at once as it danced back up, up, towards his nethers. When it flicked against his balls, his hips arched off the bed. “More, please more, oh gods…”

Garak tsked. “Not yet, my dear doctor. We’ve only been at this for 45 minutes, and you told me  _ at least _ an hour. Now… shall we continue with this delightful little instrument, or shall we progress to my hands?”

Julian groaned. He knew he could take more. He wanted to take more. But he also wanted to come. Desperately.

The feather made a gentle swipe down the seam between his balls, and he hissed, trying to retract but unable to do so because of the ropes.

“Hmm, that almost sounded painful,” Garak said thoughtfully. He repeated the gesture, much more slowly. 

Julian cried out, his cock and everything around it flaring into a deep burn. “Oh fuck, Garak. Touch me. I need--” He cried out again as the feather pressed up  _ underneath _ his testicles. He could feel cool gray fingers behind it and began to thrash. His arms swung back and forth, the ties scraping at his wrists. He tugged and  _ tugged _ but nothing came loose.

Everything stopped. Garak had withdrawn and was now watching him with hooded eyes. “Every time, you get a little closer,” he murmured. “But not much longer now. I can tell when someone is about to… break.” A smile played at the edges of his lips.

And then he got off the bed and walked away.

Julian panicked. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to yell out or burst into tears. Garak couldn’t just  _ leave _ him. Not like this.

When he dared a peek, the Cardassian was standing in the doorway, appraising him cooly while taking a sip from a glass of water. 

In his hand was a new feather. Not from a Bajoran dove, but a Tarkalean hawk. It was longer, thicker, darker. 

Julian looked on it with both desire and despair. The games were not over yet. 

Garak strode over to the bedside and offered him the glass. 

“Yes, please,” he rasped. After so much panting and heavy breathing, his throat was absolutely  _ parched. _ The cold glass was presented so gently to his lips, and the cup tipped just enough to allow the liquid to trickle into his mouth at a manageable pace. He tried not to gulp. Slowly, his muscles began to relax and his fever to subside.

The drink was placed on the nightstand, and Garak walked back around to the bottom of the bed before climbing back up and into place. He grabbed one of the small pillows and wedged it underneath Julian’s rear. Anticipating what that meant, the human clenched up involuntarily.

Garak leaned forward, and the bed shifted as he put his weight on one hand next to Julian’s waist. The other hand cradled the large brown feather like a quill. He held it up to the open mouth and dipped it in, like he was dabbing it in ink. Julian closed his mouth and sucked at it, running his tongue over the tip and wishing it was something else. It withdrew.

At first, Garak tilted it so that the barbs brushed over Julian’s jaw, first on one side and then the other. But then he placed the point in the hollow of his throat, and drew it down the center of his chest. It grazed along, not painful or pleasuring. But then it came back up, and made a detour, curving across a pectoral. The wet point poked him, right in the bud of his nipple. He gasped. It touched down again, on the areola, and began to trace tight circles. The cooling embers in his groin began to heat up again.

And then--oh stars--Garak dipped his head. He lowered it to the other nipple. Julian watched, enthralled as the Cardassian shut his eyes and closed his mouth over the nub. He sucked it in roughly, suddenly, and Julian cursed. Now there was tongue flicking back and forth over it, and on the other side the feather had fallen away so that there was only a pinching finger and thumb. In the back of his mind, he knew this was a sign that his lover was finally beginning to lose his composure. But most of him didn’t care,  _ couldn’t _ care, because of the riot of colors sparking in his eyes and the chaos of blazing livewires crisscrossing his torso from chest to cock and balls.

And then the mouth was kissing inward to his sternum, then down towards his navel, which was tasted briefly… and then lifted away.

“Garak. Elim. I’m going to murder you,” Julian ground out.

“Hmm, just for that… we’re going to draw this out a  _ little _ longer.”

No. Gods no.

But the feather was retrieved.

The sharp end poked into the base of his member, and it scraped the tender skin all the way up. Julian threw his head back, unable to even draw enough breath to speak. It  _ burned _ . He was sweating now; he could feel it popping out through the pores in his arms and legs, and under his back. As if he could sense what the human was feeling, Garak blew sweet, cool air over him. The flames instantly assuaged, and Julian almost wept with relief.

A velvety smooth hand cupped his sack and lifted it while the breeze continued to blow over him. The feather made its presence known again, prodding between his cheeks. The over sensitive skin made it feel twice as large, and all of Julian’s awareness was now centered on its inward journey. The tip tapped at his rim, and it sent such intense ripples of sensation outward that the human could swear that even his  _ feet  _ began to sweat. It inscribed small loops across the puckered skin. Julian felt like he was spinning now, like the bed was rotating faster and faster and he was about to be flung off. 

Faint whispers of breath still puffed along his straining member, counteracting the pulls and twitches of sparks dancing inside him. Then the feather centered itself, paused, and slipped in. At the same time, Garak’s mouth descended and his tongue flattened along Julian’s cock to swipe from bottom to top. Everything building up erupted out of him and he screamed out, his stretched, aching body unable to arch or thrust or pull away, and everything blacked out.

When he came to only moments later, he found that he’d ripped his hands right out of the silky ropes and they’d grabbed hold of his hair, nearly pulling it out. He looked around wildly, trying to sit up but still restrained by his feet. Garak’s back was to him, already undoing one side.

As soon as the second was free, Julian tackled him. The tunic was ripped, the pants torn off. Garak helped with the thermal undergarments while his unexpectedly feral companion nipped at any exposed skin he could find: ears, neck, hands. When his last arm was free, Julian shoved him back, only there wasn’t any bed behind him, and they tumbled onto the floor. Just before his head cracked on the hard surface, a hand caught and cradled it. Behind the manic, dilated eyes, there was still his dear, darling doctor. He pulled him down into a searing kiss.

Julian dove in, blindly searching with his hand for his still erect cock and then Garak’s dripping ajan. He wiggled a little, stretching the seam open, and then plunged in. This time it was the Cardassian’s turn to shout out. He hadn’t everted yet, and the fit was so tight that Julian thought he’d died and gone to heaven. Garak bent his knees to brace his feet on the floor and pushed against him. They began to rock steadily, pumping and thrusting faster and harder. 

They clawed at each other hungrily, Julian pinching at ridges and Garak leaving welts down his back. Their lips met and broke apart repeatedly as they chased their climaxes. Julian snapped his hips rapidly, feeling a second, fuller escalation begin to coalesce in his scrotum. He wrapped one hand underneath Garak’s writhing arse and lifted it for a better angle. The tailor wrapped one leg around him, moaning on each panted breath. Julian paused for just a second, pulling out and waiting, and the Cardassian pr’Ut emerged, eliciting a strangled groan from its owner. But then he pushed in again, and he could feel his crown brushing at the hidden ridges in the back of the inner cavity, and Garak’s fingers dug into his back hard enough to draw blood.

From there on out it was a free for all, both of them twisting and lunging and grasping at each other in a frantic plea to wring every last bit of pleasure out of their encounter. They rolled over so that Garak was on top, and he sat up to ride Julian’s waist while one hand worked mercilessly over his leaking cock.

Julian watched the show unfold over him, and knew just how to end it. He darted his own hand in behind Garak’s to locate the chuva, and pressed his fingertip into it, which he waggled up and down in a practiced motion. The body over him stuttered and tensed, and then Garak yelled out, short, thick ropes of silvery semen spurting out of three separate orifices. It was more than enough to send Julian over the edge too, and thrust upward once more before erupting inside his lover while fireworks exploded though his entire lower torso.

Finally, finally sated, he dropped his arms and legs to the floor. Garak melted down over his chest, sprawling across him with a gusty exhale.

Julian caught his breath. “Don’t you ever,  _ ever _ do that to me again.”

The voice that replied was laced with amusement. “Which part, my dear?”

“You bloody well know which part. The entire first half.”

Garak lifted up to regard him with raised brows. “I do recall this being  _ your _ idea. And I followed the spirit of your instructions, if not the precise steps.”

“Yes,” Julian gritted out. “You did it absolutely fucking  _ perfect _ . And I don’t think I can handle it again.”

“I see.” And yes, he could tell that Garak  _ could _ see, and that he was already scheming for something new and just as torturous. 

He couldn’t wait.


	4. Playing Doctor (roleplay, a little bit of scent kink)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is super tame compared to the last two, but a bit long. Playing doctor is very near and dear to my--  
> er… heart.

Major Kira put her face in her palm. “C’mon, Julian, you can’t be that naïve. Cardassians have a… you know, a  _ thing _ for doctors. Why do you think Garak will never come to the infirmary, and Dukat was always so civil with you, even when you told him off over the Cardassian orphan situation, and during the Bajoran revolt lockdown?”

“Civil?  _ Civil _ ? He was a right arse! And don’t Cardassians argue when they want to flirt? He never argued with me once. In fact, he either outright ignored me or backed down.” Julian could feel his forehead furrow. “Which is rather confusing, now that I think about it.”

The major braced one hand on the console in front of her and drooped her head before snapping it back up. “That’s probably because he was  _ intimidated _ by you. You have no idea, Julian. They  _ live _ in service to the State, right? Public healthcare is personification of the State tending to them, taking care of them.” She set her other hand on her hip. “I don’t know how you didn’t figure it out by now. You’re  _ dating _ a Cardassian. Hasn’t he ever--” She cut herself off. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

Dax had been amazingly silent until now. “What she  _ means,  _ Julian, is ‘hasn’t Garak ever asked you to play doctor.’ Isn’t that right, Nerys?”

Kira put her hands up in the air. “You said it, not me.”

Julian answered them. “No, he hasn’t. He still won’t come anywhere near the infirmary, and he gets all grumpy whenever I pull out a tricorder at home. The last time I tried, he threatened to cut our date short.” That had been 4 months ago, and he was still afraid to try again.

Kira shook her head. “Trust me, Julian. Doctors on Cardassia are  _ immensely _ popular. They have to beat off suitors with a stick.” 

Jadzia nudged her with an elbow. “Look at him. He’s already planning how to use this on Garak.”

Julian started. “No I’m not!” he exclaimed, at the same time the major spat out, “Oh, gross!”

The Trill just leered at him. “You go examine those scales, Dr. Bashir. Tell me how it goes.”

“And  _ don’t _ tell me!” Kira rubbed her nose ridges and hurried away.

Julian laughed and put his arm around Dax’s waist. “Thanks, love. I owe you one. Both of you.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and darted off to start his shift.

He spent the next 10 hours tending to medical logs and treating minor scrapes and burns, and used his free time to gather whatever items might come in handy. He beamed them straight to his quarters so he could head over to Garak’s Clothiers the moment he was off work.

As soon as the chrono shone 1700, he wished good evening to Nurse Jabbara and made his way down the promenade. He entered the tailor’s domain to find the man hard at work over a counter, threading a stitcher. “Ah, Doctor! Good to see you. What brings you in so early? Not another wardrobe malfunction?”

_ You’d like that, wouldn’t you?  _ “No, I just thought--” He squinted and let his eyes travel all over Garak’s face. “Are you feeling alright?”

“What? Of course. Why do you ask?” The tailor nicked his finger on a needle and cursed. 

Julian decided to use that. “Well, it’s just that… your eyes look a bit glassy, and I think your face is a little flushed. And you seem to be, pardon me, but a bit  _ clumsy _ . Are you  _ sure _ you feel like yourself?”

Garak raised his head and regarded the doctor with suspicion. “ _ Yes _ , Doctor. I feel quite fine. Except that someone seems to have arrived with the sole purpose to pester me.”

“Ah! And you’re irritable, too. That’s not a good sign. Did you know there’s a new Bajoran virus going around? It’s symptoms are subtle but terribly hard on the immune system. Aren’t Cardassians susceptible to most Bajoran diseases? Maybe we should get you to the infirmary.”

The tailor smacked a hand down on the counter. “ _ Absolutely _ not! I don’t know what you’re playing at, but there is  _ nothing _ wrong with me that a little peace and privacy wouldn’t cure.”

Perfect. “Well. If it’s peace and privacy you’re worried about, we could go to my quarters, instead of the infirmary. I could…  _ examine _ you there.” He smiled. “If you like.” 

Garak set down the stitcher. Something glittered in his eyes, and he grew still. It reminded Julian of a snake regarding a new discovery, trying to determine whether it was predator or prey. He pressed on. “I realize that you may not be comfortable with medical equipment, and I couldn’t blame you. But I  _ do _ happen to have some more… old-fashioned devices. No screens or beeping or scanning. Just a doctor and his patient.” And now for the kicker. “I promise to be gentle.”

The flush was genuine this time. A faint, blue gray dusting over the neck. The center of each thick scale grew darker, accentuating the scalloped design. 

Julian took a bold step forward. “Come with me, Elim.” He couldn’t help the deeper timber, or the purr that had worked its way into his voice. “Doctor’s orders.”

In something of a daze, Garak typed in a few commands and stepped away from the counter. The human took hold of his arm and steered him out of the shop and toward the turbolift. Once inside, he strolled in a circle around the Cardassian. “Hmm. You seem tense. And even under the bright lights, your pupils are dilating. That’s not a usual response. I may have to conduct a rather thorough examination.”

Garak cleared his throat. “How long do you plan on this taking? I do have a commission that needs to be finished by tomorrow.”

Julian led him out of the lift and down the corridor. “As long as necessary, of course. I have to make a diagnosis first, and then determine a plan of action for your treatment. Depending on the severity of your condition, it could take hours.”

“Maybe we should put this off until later, then. I would hate to--”

Julian broke in over him. “Are you questioning my authority as a medical practitioner, Mr. Garak?” As anticipated, it shut the man up. This was just getting better and better. He entered his code and gestured for his friend to enter the room. “Why don’t you find a place to get comfortable, and I’ll gather my things?” He excused himself into the bedroom to prepare. 

When he emerged, the tailor was perched at the edge of the couch, looking unsure as to why he was there or what to expect. It was a rare treat to see the usually poised and assured ex-spy thrown off his stride. “Doctor,  _ what _ is that you’re wearing?”

Julian looked down at his tan slacks and forest green polo, encircled by a long, white jacket. “This? It’s a lab coat. I thought you might not appreciate being assessed by a Federation doctor, so I went more casual.” He pretended to suddenly remember something. “Don’t scientists and doctors wear something like this on Cardassia, too?”

“Yes, similar, but only in clinical settings. Surely it’s not necessary at home.” Garak’s eyes gravitated towards his throat. “And what is that _ ridiculous _ item hanging around your neck?”

Fingering the rubberized coating, Julian slowly slid the tubes down his chest to hold out for the Cardassian to study. “It’s called a stethoscope. It’s for listening to your heart and lungs.” He pulled it back before the gray hand had a chance to reach it, and stuck the ends in his ears. He sat down next to Garak on the couch and held up the silver, metal diaphragm. “This part picks up sound vibrations.” He pressed it to the center of the intricate tunic and held it there before shaking his head in mock concern. “The fabric’s too thick. I’m going to have to ask you to remove your shirt.”

Garak raised a brow archly. 

“Now, Elim,” Julian said in his most reasonable professional voice. “I need you to cooperate, or we’re going to have to go back to the infirmary.” In the back of his mind, he felt bad about using the term like some kind of punishment or curse word. But he also knew it would have the intended effect.

Garak removed his outer layer and stared at him defiantly.

Julian placed the stethoscope again. He cocked his head and looked to the side like he was focusing on the sounds, then frowned. “No, I’m afraid this isn’t working. Maybe your scales are so thick that the sound is muted. Let’s remove the undershirt, too.”

“I hardly think one flimsy layer of Finnean polyester makes much of a difference.” But Garak went ahead and obeyed. 

Trying not to ogle the dusky, ornamental torso that was revealed, Julian tried again. 

Garak hissed. “That’s  _ cold!” _

“Oops, sorry! Let me warm this up.” The human smiled benignly, then held the diaphragm up to his mouth and breathed heavily over the surface. The man sitting next to him paid close attention. He huffed once more, then reapplied the instrument. This time, he nodded in satisfaction. “Yes, this is much better. I can hear your heartbeat now.” He looked up at the ceiling and counted to himself. “Very strong and healthy.”

“What a relief,” Garak remarked drily. 

“Alright, turn around. I need to see your back.” This was something of a test. Julian knew that Garak was particular about his back in two very different ways. The first was the typical wariness of a spy; always keep people in your line of vision. But the other part was more of an  _ Elim _ quirk. His partner was most appreciative of attention to his back, particularly firm scratching. Curious as to which side would win out, the doctor waited patiently.

Garak rotated on the cushions, but turned his head to watch over his shoulder. Fair enough.

Julian pressed the metal to his skin, just under a shoulder blade. “Okay, now take a deep breath in. Hold it. Let it out. Very good.” He moved it. “Another one, in. Hold it. And out.” He chided himself for being impatient, but couldn’t help himself. “Hmm. I think I need a better angle.” He put his hand on Garak’s shoulder. “Could you sit up straighter, please?”

The Cardassian straightened immediately, and Julian received an unexpected little jolt. He’d only ever really examined Garak’s back when he was lying down in bed. But from this position, the muscles all stood out and defined his spine and abdomen in a most provocative way. He admired the form for a moment and gave himself another firm chastisement before continuing. He was supposed to be tempting  _ Garak _ , not the other way around.

He repeated his earlier instructions for breathing while keeping his hand firmly in place on the ridged shoulder. A fog of heat was building up at their point of contact, and he knew it had to feel twice as warm to his nearly cold-blooded friend. 

Reluctantly, he withdrew. “Good news. Your lungs and heart are in perfect working order. What shall we check next: eyes, ears, nose, or mouth?”

Garak turned back around. “ _ You’re _ the doctor. Which do you feel is the most pertinent to your line of inquiry?”

Julian almost squirmed. Another of his weaknesses pertaining to all things Garak was the man’s erudite use of language. There was something--dare he say-- _ sexy _ about his broad vocabulary and almost poetic turns of phrase. He was certain parts of it were owed to the proficiency of the UT, but it did have its limits. No one would ever hear a term like ‘pertinent’ out of a Pakled.

Having decided to save the mouth for last, he chose the least sensitive and erotic structure first. “The nose it is.” He swapped out the stethoscope for a mirror, which he held up to Garak’s face. He had to lean in to view it clearly, and scooted forward more than was strictly necessary. Despite his ulterior motives, he was fascinated by the view afforded him. Cardassian noses were similar to Earth’s crocodilians, except they lacked the flap necessary for extended bouts submerged underwater. The cavity was larger than a human’s, with additional chambers for processing smells, which accounted for their exceptional olfactory acuity. “Fascinating,” he mumbled to himself. “And--and very clear. No blockages or anything. On to the ears.”

Julian put down the mirror and picked up the otoscope. 

Garak regarded it suspiciously. “That looks rather sinister, Doctor.”

“Oh, it’s nothing of the sort. It just shines a light in the canal and uses a low-power magnifying lens to let me view the inner structures. Shall I?” 

Garak obliged, turning his head.

It was time to become a little more  _ tactile _ . Julian took a gentle hold of Garak’s jaw, careful to place his thumb between the [ aural and maxillary ridges ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24949294/chapters/60389701) without pressing too hard on either. But the pad fit nicely into the groove, and it felt more than a little pleasurable. The tailor seemed to think so too, because little black spots were beginning to pop up across his skin, the equivalent to a human’s goosebumps. Excellent.

He poked the otoscope into an ear canal and gave it only a cursory glance. He was much more interested in how the antique instrument fit so nicely into the cavity.  _ Horny much?  _ Julian knew he wasn’t normally this turned on by examining patients, or his job would be nearly impossible. But it was  _ Garak _ , afterall. Not only someone he found immensely attractive and enthralling, but a man who was intensely private and reluctant to reveal even the slightest weakness. Being allowed these liberties was intimate and erotic in its own right.

He asked to see the other ear. “Hold on, I think I see something.” He scooched closer, almost in Garak’s lap now. He squinted into the lens, holding the man steady with a firm grip to the shoulder again. He wiggled the instrument around a little, and watched for a reaction. The tailor stretched his neck a little and swallowed audibly. “No, everything is fine. My mistake.”

Julian released his quarry and took a steadying breath. All that remained was the eyes and mouth.

“This- this is an ophthalmoscope.” He congratulated himself on not stumbling over the long and ancient word. “I’m going to shine it into your eyes; it’ll help me check your retinas, optic nerve, vasculature, and vitreous humor.” Julian didn’t know or care whether Garak understood what he was saying; he just hoped it sounded sufficiently doctor-ly. “Computer: dim lights to 10% their current setting.”

The room dimmed. Garak’s pupils dilated immediately, his Cardassian eyes superior in the decreased illumination. Julian found himself heartily distracted by the rich cornflower blue of the irises. At this proximity, he could see patterns in the musculature. They lacked the outward rays characteristic of many humanoids, and were more comparable to lizard eyes, full of dots and squiggles. How had he never noticed before? The orbs darted back and forth, Garak studying him just as closely. What did  _ he _ see?

Julian took the tailor’s jaw to hold him immobile. His fingers were curled slightly, digging in just the tiniest bit. The skin here was one of the most tender and vulnerable places on a Cardassian, and as such, were almost never freely offered for access. He tried to keep his hand from shaking as he shone the scope into each pupil, watching them contract involuntarily. A faint pulse flickered against his fingertips. It was speeding up. 

“Your ocular reflexes are adequate,” he stated, his voice lower and rougher than he’d planned. “I see no signs of illness or damage. Although there is evidence of a slight strain, which is to be expected on a station with higher light levels than your race is adapted to.” He flicked off the instrument and set it aside, but didn’t remove his other hand.

With a tongue depressor now, he issued a new charge. “Open your mouth and say ‘ah.’”

Garak opened up, but no sound came forth. 

“Elim, I need to see the back of your throat. Either lower your tongue or say ‘ah.’”

“Ah.” It was a short, prissy sound, and it was absolutely no help.

“Wider.” He slipped the stick in and exerted enough pressure to lower the tongue. Garak’s mouth snapped shut.

“You broke my tongue depressor!” Julian hadn’t been expecting that. It also startled him back into awareness, and made him realize just how careful he should be around that mouth, suddenly glad he hadn’t tried a finger instead.

“That must have been a reflex. Besides, it was uncomfortable and tasted horrid,” Garak replied unapologetically.

“Fine. But I still need a saliva sample and cheek swab.”

“No.”

“ _ Garak _ ,” Julian grated out. “We already have your DNA on file. This will at least allow a comparison, and I still need to run a few labs to check for pathogens. So.” He inched forward, their knees bumping. “Hold. Still. And no biting.” 

Garak held still. So did his lips. Tightly.

The doctor huffed. “You’re a horrid patient.”

“And an unwilling one, I might add.”

Julian reassessed. He needed to reassert his position as a medical expert. Or find a way to make this sexier. Which was easier said than done. Doctors were specifically discouraged from doing this exact thing to prevent malpractice. He let go of Garak’s jaw.

The Cardassian coolly appraised him. Even in the low light, it felt like he was being picked apart and his secrets revealed. But the face in front of him wasn’t malicious. In fact, there might have been a smile lurking behind that mouth.

“Doctor Bashir. You haven’t been yourself this evening. Is something on your mind?”

“Ah, no. I’m just concerned for your health, that’s all.” How could he salvage this?

“Are you sure you shouldn’t be concerned for your  _ own  _ wellbeing? In the time since we’ve arrived in your quarters, you’ve grown flush, and I estimate your body temperature has risen nearly 2 degrees. Are you feeling feverish?”

Bullocks. “Um. No?”

Garak took a hold of his forearm and slid down to the wrist, where he pressed a thumb. “Your pulse is elevated, as well. But just to be sure…” He reached up to Julian’s throat and took hold of each side of his windpipe. The fingertips wormed around until they settled over his carotid. Against his rapidly heating skin, the digits felt refreshingly cool. “Yes, your heartbeat  _ has _ increased.” He tilted his head. “Did I ever mention that after my schooling, I spent a year as a paramedic?”

“No, you neglected to mention that.”

The hand on his neck fell away. “I became quite proficient in the study of humanoid anatomy. It’s come in very  _ useful _ over the years.”

Julian bet it had. A spy could be twice as effective with that sort of knowledge.

“As such, I feel qualified to perform at least a  _ cursory _ examination. To make sure that  _ you’re _ healthy as well.” Garak leaned in. “Doctors are notorious for ignoring their own symptoms, as I’m sure you know.”

“Alright. Okay.” Julian folded his hands in his lap.

“I prefer to focus on more  _ overt _ indicators of infection. Would you mind if I checked your lymph nodes?”

Double bullocks. Not only did Garak seem to actually know what he was talking about, but this was starting to get horribly out of hand. 

Or  _ in  _ hand.

Julian nodded mutely.

“Well.” Garak rubbed his hands together, then returned one to just under the human’s jaw. He felt around, massaging lightly. “No swelling here.” Both hands cupped his face and roamed about the back of his neck, pressing here and there behind his ears. “All fine here.” He eyed the lab coat. “Remove the jacket, if you please.”

Julian was glad to. It was starting to grow a little hot in the room.

The deft hands took hold of the hem of his shirt and lifted it up and off his body, then lowered his arms slightly on both sides, so they were sticking out perpendicular to his body. Garak firmly rubbed and squeezed into the flesh of Julian’s underarms, thumbs pushing into the edges of his chest. It wasn’t  _ precisely _ how a doctor would perform the evaluation, but he wasn’t about to complain. Not with what he suspected was coming next.

“Those are satisfactory. One last place.” The room was darker than Julian was used to, but he could still detect a wolfish smile. “Turn around, please.” He hurriedly switched directions, his back to Garak. Unlike the retired spy, he had  _ no _ compunctions about doing so. Two hands found his hips, and the sofa dipped behind him as the Cardassian changed position. Chilled, dry hands moved down and inward, under his waistband, compressing at strategic points. Julian froze, his blood rapidly draining from everything north of his trousers to pool right between his legs.

Garak’s fingers massaged around his muscles, swirling and kneading as if he really were checking over the abundant nodes in the region, but with several superfluous flourishes. They continued their descent, and soon Julian could feel the skin around his cock being stretched as it engorged and rose, and even the casing of his scrotum pulling up repeatedly with each stroke. He held back a moan, but just barely.

Garak moved so close that Julian could feel a cool whisper on the back of his neck. The lukewarm Cardassian breath ignited licks of flame over his spine, and he tried to restrain a whimper. 

But Garak withdrew his hands and gently patted everything back into place. “All of your…  _ organs _ seem to be in perfect working order down there, my dear. The lack of swelling in any of your lymph nodes  _ would _ suggest a lack of infection,” Garak commented as Julian deflated in disappointment. “But there are certainly a host of other maladies that can befall a humanoid, as well. Your race’s senses are so limited that  _ you _ would have to resort to a tricorder to detect many of these, but Cardaassians have no need for such a device. Our superior sense of smell can diagnose anything from malnutrition to most cancers. So, if you wouldn’t mind holding that pose…” 

Julian froze. He could feel the air shift over his bare back as Garak readjusted himself, then a puff of heat as a nose inserted itself just behind his ear. The man behind him pulled in a deep, steady breath, and suddenly the entire right side of Julian’s face was on fire. The nub tickled between his ear and nape as it snuffled up and down, collecting scents. Then it traced gradually across the bottom of his hairline, pausing in the middle. Julian sat in a suspended state of tension, a frisson of tingles trickling across his scalp. His trousers were beginning to grow uncomfortably tight.

After a thorough examination of the other ear, Garak sat back. “I’m going to need a better angle. Here--” He took hold of Julian’s arms and guided him to the edge of the sofa, and then made sure he was sitting up straight. The tailor left the couch, sinuously lowering himself to the floor. He wedged Julian’s legs apart and slipped between them, raised on his knees so that they were nearly groin to groin. But he hunched his shoulders and descended on the human’s chest, veering off at the last second to bury his face in the crevice between bicep and ribs and take a bracing hold of the taut hips. 

“The scents tend to concentrate in crevices and junctures that are less open to the air,” Garak lectured from his underarm. “In mammalian humanoids, especially in the hairs. It’s not so strong on you, though, as yours are trimmed on a regular basis.” It felt like every word was being spoken into his muscles.

Julian could barely see Garak’s face at that angle, could only feel his ridges and smooth skin pressed into his own. Heat rolled through his body from shoulders to hips. It wasn’t so much the experience of having his underarm fondled as seeing an alluring and  _ dangerous _ man kneeling in front of him. Holding him immobile. Doing as he pleased. 

On to the other side, “accidentally” brushing over a nipple in the process. Jullian didn’t squeak as a jolt shot through him, but it wasn’t a dignified noise that escaped. He  _ had _ to get out of his pants. Soon. 

His prayers were answered. Garak straightened, his strategically placed hands prying their way under the waistbands of both outer and inner garments. They tugged down. Julian lifted his hips, allowing the fabric to be drawn away with ease. The tailor had to move backward to pull the clothing off, but as soon as it was set aside, he returned. With hooded eyes, Garak picked up his lesson. “ _ Here _ we can find a veritable cocktail of chemical signatures, especially pheromones.” His eyes had grown so dark they were more of a navy than sky blue. “And there are so many  _ nooks  _ and  _ crannies _ for secretions to accumulate. This part may take some time.”

Julian wasn’t sure how much time Garak would be given. He was beginning to feel embarrassingly on edge.

The Cardassian gripped his thighs, and this time Julian  _ did _ moan. The touch felt like fire, flaring through the tissues of leg and penis alike. The hold dragged outward, grasping flesh for balance as Garak tipped forward. 

“Ah. Oh.” Julian watched the intent face draw ever closer to his groin. It settled in off to one side, and his cock came into contact with Garak’s ear for the first time. It was cool and  _ ribbed _ and he could feel every scale bump across him as the man breathed in his scent. Was that his nose that poked through the wiry hairs? A lip? A tongue? He fell back into the cushions, giving up on trying to be a good patient.

When Garak wedged his legs even further apart, Julian curled his toes. He could feel the face against him move down below the base of his cock, hot drafts searing the skin. When what was  _ definitely _ a mouth passed over his balls, he whimpered and shoved his hands down into the cushions, clawing at the fabric. 

Garak didn’t lift his head when he spoke again. “Being a physician, surely you are aware of the intricate relationship between  _ smell _ and  _ taste, _ yes, Doctor?”

Julian groaned out the next words. “ _ Yes.  _ God yes, oh please.”

A textured tongue began to lap at the delicate skin over his scrotum, small, short licks that created a tickling intensity that almost stung but in a way that hurt  _ so good. _ When the full, flat of the surface finally spread across him, everything constricted and drew up and he hissed and then yelled out as ecstasy flared through him. A jet of ejaculate spurted out, missing his examiner but decorating his own belly with warm, wet ribbons.

Julian came down within moments, surprisingly loose in his back and shoulders. He hadn’t even realized how much tension he’d been holding in. He opened his eyes and studied the criss-crossed ceiling for a minute. “Computer: lights up to 30%.” Gathering what little dignity he had left, he sat up to raise his eyebrows apologetically to the man still in front of him.

“Goddamit, Garak. This was supposed to be for you.”

“Who says I didn’t enjoy myself as well?” The tailor looked down ruefully. “I seem to have ruined a perfectly good pair of pants with our little escapade.”

Julian’s inherent curiosity swam to the surface. “I have to ask: was it playing doctor that got you off, or was it the, ah, smelling?”

“Oh, I haven’t quite ‘got off’ yet, but I  _ am _ rather aroused. I think it may be a combination of the two.” Garak joined him on the sofa and grabbed a tissue from the side table, which he passed over.

“Thank you.” Julian mulled over a few things while he cleaned up. “So.... If the Cardassian sense of smell is so strong, then all those times that you riled me up at lunch…”

“Ah.” Garak actually  _ wiggled _ into the couch. “Yes, my dear. Every time you get lost in conversation and forget to reign in your enthusiasm, you release the most…  _ potent _ symphony of pheromones. I’m afraid that lovely Kaynid couple next to us last week was positively  _ scandalized _ by our discussion of hexagonal imagery in 22nd century Romulan erotica.” A gray finger materialized on his arm and traced a trail down his wrist. “I don’t suppose you noticed how they kept turning away from us and pawing at their snouts?”

“Actually, I did. I thought maybe they were scratching. Or it was a cultural thing. Hand gestures.”

His companion chuckled. “I doubt they were able to conduct any business after their lunch. They likely retreated to their guest quarters for… what was that term you use? Oh yes. A ‘quickie.’”

Julian almost made a joke about ‘doggy style,’ but thought better of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. It just sort of cuts off. But when I realized how LONG this got... Yeah. I really like playing doctor.


	5. On a Knife's Edge (knifeplay)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: playing with a knife, but no pain, no cutting, no blood  
> I planned on a couple more tame ones, but this one was finished first, so... here ya go.

Julian swept the flat of the knife around Garak’s ear and then over the aural and maxillary ridges. He dragged it from back to front, bumping over every scale of each ridge until it reached a smooth cheek. There, it grazed forward and cautiously down, until the tip landed at the crease of the gray mouth. Garak’s blue eyes above it gazed downward intently, even though they wouldn’t be able to see the point of contact. 

Julian had never done anything like this before, had never even had the thought cross his mind. But Garak assured him that the short dagger in his hand was much more dangerous to fragile human skin than his own thick, Cardassian hide, and that he implicitly trusted the doctor’s steady, dexterous hands. 

He had to admit that while he wasn’t currently getting a whole lot of stimulation from teasing the spy in such a way, it was an intriguing challenge to his augmented abilities. He could test himself, see how measured of moves he could take, how close he could come to drawing blood without doing so. 

Even if his lover had insisted that such a mistake would be acceptable in this particular game.

The tool in his hand had a curved blade, dull on the outside and sharp on the inner edge, like a paring knife, only longer. The handle was heavy and black, ribbed for decoration or enhanced grip, he wasn’t sure. Although it gave him ideas.

Julian moved the tip to the center of Garak’s lower lip and angled his hand down, pulling the flesh with it. He continued until the jaw lowered, opening the cool, pink mouth. When the knife poked inside, Garak closed his eyes. Julian set the metal down and dragged it back out, over the bottom teeth. The Cardassian’s eyelids twitched as a bluish blush began to appear in his chufa. Hmm. Julian prodded deeper, scraping the point over the left molars and toward the canines. He repeated with the right side. He was rewarded with faster, shallower breaths, signifying increased excitement.

It felt dangerous and obscene, watching the tapered weapon glide in and out of Garak’s gasping mouth, his face willing, serene, and erotic, wanting more. Julian rotated the knife so that the safe edge came down, and the man under him winced when it touched his tongue. But no cuts were made, the thin line drawn along the crease until it left his mouth altogether. 

Garak panted for a moment, then caught himself and shut his lips. 

“Keep your eyes closed,” Julian instructed.

He turned the knife sideways and bit down on it, so it wouldn’t be set on the bed. Then he took his pointer fingers and traced them down Garak’s arms, from shoulder to elbow, elbow to wrist. The man looked perplexed at first, until he realized that it was nails and not tools on his skin. He relaxed. Julian took the knife in one hand, then repeated the movement. He could see the moment Garak determined what was happening, his eyes remaining closed but head jerking to the side that held the tool. 

Julian seated himself firmly over the naked crotch, then took several minutes just drawing his fingers and knife down Garak’s arms and torso, constantly changing up which hand held the instrument, or whether it was used at all. He could feel heat beginning to pool between his legs, both in the other man’s groin and his own. The small tremors at each touch tickled at his sack, and he couldn’t help just a faint wiggle for his own enjoyment. 

But that was all Julian allowed himself for now. He scooted back, pinning Garak’s thighs under him but freeing up access to a new playground. He bent over and tongued into the chuva, one of his favorite torments for inspiring sound from the man who was normally taciturn during their encounters. As expected, it was first greeted with a hiss. But he pushed into the depression, tasting the musky skin while he licked up and down, and this time there was a moan on the next exhale.

He sat back up, gratified to see that his priming had worked. The scaled ridges around Garak’s ajan had begun to swell and split apart, revealing the wet, pinkish cavern within. He brought the knife back, and traced it unhurriedly over one rim, then the other. The legs under him tightened and he thrust against them reflexively. He flipped the knife over so that the handle was downward, then dipped it into the top of the slit. Garak cried out this time, possibly at the intrusion, or at the sensation of a cold plastic in his heated crevice, or even more likely, at the knowledge that it was the weapon that touched him. Julian slid it inward a little and then down the entirety of the cleft. 

The Cardassian’s hips lifted minisculely, limited by the weight on top of him, trying to take in a little more. Julian obliged, pushing the ribbed shaft inside. Garak shuddered. Holding the blade, he began a gentle fucking, watching the ajan swallow the handle over and over again. When the flutters turned into small quakes, he pulled it out.

“Elim,” he whispered. “I’m going to move you to the end of the bed now. Okay?” 

Garak swallowed thickly, but nodded.

Julian climbed off, and silently put the knife on the floor. He grabbed Garak’s ankles and pulled him along until his legs were dangling off, his rear perched right on the precipice. Julian spread his legs open and stepped between them. Garak’s fingers curled over the edge, grasp tense in waiting. The human inserted his thumb and index finger into the now-dripping ajan and separated the lips, bracing them wide open and vulnerable. 

He stood there and watched for a moment, letting the suspense build. Garak was trying to calm his breathing and relax, but his mouth was parted, and he kept licking his lips.

“I need you to stay very, _very_ still now,” Julian murmured, readjusting his hand a little lower. He wondered what it was like for Garak, expecting something sharp, maybe even piercing, in such delicate tissue. He centered himself over the gaping entrance and held his cock just centimeters away, then plunged it in.

Garak screamed out and arched his back, coming inside himself and all around Julian. Jammed in to the hilt and undone by the sight of the man writhing under him, Julian felt his own release burst out and join the mix. 

Garak sagged. Julian withdrew, sluicing the fluids off himself and surreptitiously wiping them off on the blanket. He climbed back up on the bed and settled in alongside the Cardassian now staring blankly at the ceiling.

“My dear, that was _exquisitely_ executed.”

Julian grinned tiredly. He’d barely performed any physical activity, but the tension of the scenario had sapped him anyway. “Thank you for the high praise,” he returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was short, but it accomplished what I wanted. The next one will be longer. :)


	6. Who's for Dessert? (sitophilia/foodplay)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know how this got so looooong. And it ended up being a little funnier than I intended.  
> \---  
> CW: unintentional drugging, addictive substances

Garak petulantly scrolled through his padd, trying to locate the line that Julian insisted he’d misquoted. Shaking his head in exasperation, the human retired their plates and utensils to the replicator. A hiss followed by a Cardassian expletive told him that he’d won this round. Sometimes his companion seemed to forget that his enhanced brain didn’t just _forget_ pivotal phrases in stories that he knew he’d be grilled on later.

He pulled some bottles and containers out of the cupboard and lined them up along the countertop and turned back to the seated figure. “How do you feel about dessert, love?”

Garak looked up distractedly. “Dessert?”

“Our dinner was so healthy it’s practically sinful,” Julian complained. “I want something _sweet_ and completely unnecessary.”

Garak fixed him with a patient stare. “When I ordered the shredded vegetable medley with a side of feyt pilaf, no one forced you to request the same thing.”

“That’s an awfully fancy way of saying ‘salad and rice covered with Cardassian bean paste.’ And it _was_ very… filling. But c’mon. I got all these toppings. I thought we could try a little ice cream buffet.”

“Doctor, I simply do not share your very human preoccupation with frozen dairy confectionaries. _Even_ \--” he broke in, knowing what his human was about to argue, “if they use almond or soy alternative.” He returned to his paragraphs, lips mouthing the words as he read. 

Julian leaned back on the counter and crossed his arms. He didn’t stomp out of the room. And it wasn’t in a huff.

After a few minutes in the bedroom, he returned in a much better mood, and sat back down across from Garak.

A pair of blue eyes flitted up, then narrowed. “Julian dear, what did you do with your shirt?”

The human set one elbow on the table and propped his chin in hand. “Mm, it’s somewhere on the bedroom floor. Probably under my trousers.”

Garak’s eyes widened a little bit.

“Along with everything else.” Julian was glad he’d decided to do this in his quarters; the finicky tailor never would have allowed a bare bottom on any of _his_ chairs.

The gray mouth opened, and a tongue darted out. “And what prompted you to change your wardrobe so drastically, my dear?”

“I have all these lovely toppings that I gathered up, and I’d hate for them to go to waste. I thought that since you weren’t in the mood for ice cream, maybe _I_ could be your dessert.” He smiled demurely and batted his lashes. “And if you were _up_ for it, you could be mine.”

Garak tutted. “That’s terrible, even for you.”

Julian didn’t reply. He just stood up from the table (a safe distance back, now that a certain part of his anatomy was somewhat perpendicular to the rest of him) and walked over to the counter. He kept his back to Garak, sure to clench _just_ enough to show off the shapely outline of his rear. “I happen to have chocolate syrup,” he informed his friend. “ _Vulcan_ chocolate syrup.” Which was richer and spicier, almost like a molé. He tipped over the bottle and squeezed some onto a fingertip, then turned around to face Garak again. He put the digit in his mouth and sucked on it provocatively. Or so he hoped. One of these days, he was going to successfully seduce the ex-spy and melt him into a quivering puddle. He just needed to find the right… combination.

But for tonight, well, it wasn’t as if they’d set about _purposely_ taking turns with trying new things, but it had kind of worked out that way. Which would make this evening _his_ choice. And ever since his Academy days, he’d wanted to make a go of this.

Garak’s eyes strayed from Julian’s mouth and drifted much, much lower down. “You seem to be enjoying that to an inordinate degree.”

Julian smirked. “Don’t knock it until you try it, love.”

“I’m not sure I want to. Your choice of sweets appear lamentably sticky and difficult to control portion sizes.” Ah yes. There were few things that perturbed the tailor more than being _messy_. 

“Not any of this needs to leave the kitchen. All of the surfaces in here are specially treated and easy to wipe down,” Julian answered reasonably. He trailed his hand over the countertop, stopping at a box of candies. He plucked out a cherry cordial and turned back to his friend. “Any _other_ concerns?” Making eye contact, he nibbled off the bottom, then slipped his tongue in to lick up the syrup all around the cherry. Never one to back down, Garak returned his frank gaze, but his eyes flitted down to the obscene motions of Julian’s mouth once or twice.

When no response was forthcoming, the human changed tactics. He plopped the rest of the rich treat into his mouth, then started collecting condiments and transferring them to the table. Once the selection was spread out, he moved around behind Garak’s chair and dragged it back.

“My dear-”

Julian straddled his lap, smiling wickedly. “If you really wanted to play hard to get, you would have left the room. Therefore, I can’t help but assume you’re getting into this.” He bent in, locking his lips to the cool gray ones, which parted without much resistance. He eagerly licked inside, sharing the sensual sweet and chocolatey combination still in his own mouth. Garak settled his hands on Julian’s thighs, exerting just the lightest bit of pressure.

Julian pulled away. He grabbed a bottle and smiled. “You look like you’re in a salted caramel type of mood.” Garak had once described his skin just that way, when he’d been worked into a panting, sweating mess. He upended the bottle between them, laughing at the panicked look on the Cardassian’s face. Carefully, he drizzled the sauce across his chest and returned the bottle. “Now, you can sit there and let this syrup run down until it lands on your _marvelous_ trousers, or you can find a way to remove it.” He paused. “The sauce. Or your trousers.”

The tailor finally spoke. “Your current position is impeding my ability to remove that particular item of clothing, so I suppose that leaves cleaning up after you. As if I don’t do that enough.” Looking extremely put upon, he stared at the dripping golden lines. His expression turned almost accusatory. “And you _know_ that I deplore getting my hands soiled.” Which was a damn lie, and they both knew it. At least in terms of their antics in the bedroom. Said hands lifted to Julian’s waist and coaxed him to lean back against the table. “That only leaves one choice…At least you were kind enough to remove those peculiar mammalian hairs. Was that in anticipation of this evening?” Not bothering to wait for an answer, he bent over.

A long, textured tongue swiped up Julian’s chest, passing quickly over a soft nub. It hardened instantly. Garak returned to it, swirling his tongue around and flicking it up and down. Julian tightened his hips, thrusting forward. The hands on his waist pushed back.

Garak lapped from one side to the other, lazily consuming the caramel trail. The skillful attention applied to his other nipple and areola made Julian suddenly want to pour the rest of the bottle over his groin. He whimpered a little in the back of his throat.

His companion pulled away. “I do believe that’s the last of it, my dear. And not a spot of it marring my wardrobe.” He dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “Although you remain fairly sticky, yourself. Seeing as we can’t toss you in the reclamator like the clothing you so carelessly discarded, I do recommend a shower.”

Disappointed by the decreased contact, Julian wiggled his hips in Garak’s lap and sat up. He completely ignored the tailor’s comments. “Hmm. It looks like you got a little smudge… right… over here.” He leaned in and kissed at the corner of the gray lips, then started licking into the crease, removing every last iota of sugar, but mostly just delighting in the unique Cardassian flavor and the sensation of slipping between two pliant folds of flesh. He groaned at where that thought took him. Mouthing along the maxillary ridge and up the cheek, he felt the grip on his hips grow firmer. “I want to take off your clothes, love. I want to get messy, _filthy_ , and to make you _enjoy_ it.” 

Garak’s breath hitched, and his fingers flexed into Julian’s bare skin. The human pressed forward, knowing full well that his cold-blooded friend would be drawn in by his heat. “I’ve got some replicated sheets that I bet you’ll absolutely _hate._ Go make yourself comfortable on the bed, and I’ll bring a few things in that are sure to destroy the bedding, so you can gleefully vaporize it later.” He nosed into the sensitive inner ear and whispered the magic word that really _was_ magic, because Garak hardly ever turned it down. “ _Please_.”

They parted with coy glances and snide smirks. Julian studied the supplies on the counter. He contemplated the I’danian spice pudding, the pineapple rings, the [ klon peags ](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Klon_peag). He imagined the Vulcan chocolate syrup running over his spine and down into his crack, where Garak just might…

And just barely stopped himself from rutting into the metallic cabinets, which were likely to be cold and not at all scaly. He grabbed the carafe of chocolate, a can of whipped cream, and a maraschino cherry, and expeditiously made his way to the bedroom.

He almost dropped the supplies at the scene before him. Garak was stretched out on the brown and yellow striped sheets (and yes, Julian knew just how ugly they were, that was part of the _joke_ ), naked and propped up on the pile of pillows that he always claimed were excessive and overly large and _far_ too sumptuous for a proper Cardassian. But he sure seemed to enjoy them. He looked both snug and smug with one arm behind his head and the other between his legs, idly teasing up and down alongside, but not touching, his ajan.

The bowl of chocolate was unceremoniously deposited on top of the medkit on the nightstand.

Julian practically dashed around to the end of the bed and hopped up between the wantonly spread legs. His own arousal was beginning to grow more insistent, and he nabbed a quick pull and squeeze as he scooted forward. Garak’s nethers were considerably less worked up, with only a faint blue haze beginning to color the region. It was a challenge the younger man was more than willing to accept. 

Having probably never seen whipped cream in this form before, the Cardassian eyed the dispenser warily. But Julian was an old hand with this particular dessert, had in fact constructed a Halloween costume of nothing but this, and smiled confidently. He flipped the can in the air once, waggled his eyebrows, and set to work.

Pressing down on the nozzle, he sprayed the pressurized cream onto the bluish scales around the ajan. Knowing that the tailor was notoriously a “start at the top and work your way down” type of fellow, he purposely started at the bottom of the seam and traced upward. 

“Oh! That’s _cold_!” Garak complained. He hissed as the other side was given the same treatment. 

Julian patted his thigh patronizingly, but continued decorating the dusky flesh. He made a loop outlining the chuva, then started a second layer around the almond shape framing the seam. Lastly, he applied one vertical strip straight up the central slit. Garak’s stomach and hips tensed then loosened, and the white cream slowly sank inward as the scales on each side plumped up and began to unfurl.

The sight was utterly debauched, and the smell of mingling fluids was irresistible, cloying and pungent. The sweet and spicy aroma wafted around him, filling his sinuses and making him dizzy with wanting. This was going to be _fun._

Bracing himself with a hand on each thigh, Julian dropped his face over Garak’s crotch. The scent here was even stronger, causing his nostrils to flare and mouth to water. At the last second, he remembered the cherry in his hand and propped it inside the chuva like it was in a little dessert dish.

After his first taste, Julian was hooked. “Oh. Oh GOD. Elim, you--” lick, slurp, “mmph--you’re _delicious.”_

“I’m delighted that you approve, my dear. Although next time, I hope you’ll find a treat that is a little warmer to the touch.”

Julian nuzzled in, lifting only long enough to reply. “Can do. I’ll find something that heats on contact. Although,” he ran his tongue along one inner wall, “maybe I could just find a warmer cream, because _this_ ,” along the other inner wall, “is _delectable.”_ He lifted his eyes to meet the merry blue ones above. “I hope you don’t mind if I take my time about this.”

Garak raised his brow ridges and ducked his head, blinking under heavy lids. “My dear doctor, seeing you like this, I wouldn’t _dream_ of it.”

With a grunt that was more moan, Julian stretched out on the bed, legs hanging off, and lowered himself on his elbows to hold as close in as possible. He sucked in a deep breath, growing light-headed, and dragged his tongue over every whipped cream coated surface. As soon as it was gone, he hungrily applied a new layer and assiduously applied himself to the task. Up, down, in, out, and around. 

Julian buried his face deeper in the crevice, sloppy with fluids. He held his breath, his nose even entering the cleft, tongue digging in as deep as it could go. The cream smeared all over his chin and cheeks. His forehead. He could even feel it clinging to his eyelashes. He lapped and swallowed and suckled, unable to get enough. Garak trembled beneath him, little whining noises squeaking out on each breath. Julian licked his tongue in a wide swirl before pulling out to get a gasp of oxygen.

But he couldn’t stay away. He splayed his hands on either side of Garak’s lower abdomen, pulling them apart to spread the lips of the ajan further. A sobbing cry sounded from above him, and a gray hand clasped at his hair to drag him back down. He blindly reached for the can of whipped cream and recoated all of the bare surfaces, then eagerly dove back in. 

He met the tapered tip of Garak’s pr’Ut, preparing to peek out. But he didn’t want it to get in the way, so he moved one hand over the chuva above it and pressed his thumb into the top of the slit, not restraining the organ, just… discouraging it from everting. The fingers in his hair clenched tighter, pulling at his scalp.

He tilted his head, then began to nip down one side of the vent, his teeth just exerting a little pressure with each touch as he traveled from top to bottom. Appreciating the angle, he darted his tongue in to slurp along the inner wall. Garak cried out, thrashing to that side. Julian grabbed both hips to push him back down, but that meant relinquishing his hold, and the Cardassian’s phallus slid out and up with a moan and sigh from its owner.

Julian frowned at the obstruction to his feast. How could he still access that wonderful cavity and continue to taste heaven? He scrambled around Garak’s body, barely conscious of having made a decision, and straddled the man’s chest, facing his feet. Satisfied, he lay down over the scales and ridges to grab hold of the muscular thighs and hold them apart. He licked a quick strip down the pr’Ut until he reached the remaining space underneath. There wasn’t much room anymore, but it was the perfect fit for what he wanted to use, and he delved in with his tongue over and over again.

In the back of his mind, he felt two deft hands grasp and massage at each half of his arse. One of them prodded at his anus, covered in something cold and wet. A finger slipped in easily, and despite his preoccupation, the chilly intrusion sent a series of tingles down to his toes. He bobbed his head, to continue tongue-fucking Garak’s ajan, while the digit described a wide circle within him. He could feel his muscles relaxing and opening, which allowed space for a second and then a third finger. They inserted further and further, locating his prostate with unerring accuracy before curling downward, sliding over the lump. A bolt of lightning knifed upward through him, and his nipples constricted so tight they nearly hurt.

But he didn’t sway course, didn’t let it distract him too much. Not when such a feast called to him. He grabbed the condiment again, and sprayed more cream onto a hand, then lathered it liberally all up and down the bobbing pr’Ut. When he sucked it into his mouth, it was like the sweetest candy, the richest cake, and it was impossible not to moan in bliss. He shoved his mouth as far down as he could go, and twisted his wrist back and forth around the wide base, dancing over the irrlun. Suddenly his mouth and throat were flooded with a new combination, salty and sweet like buttered rum. Thick, hot gobs dribbled out as he pulled back; Garak must have come. 

But Julian wasn’t _done_ yet. His head buzzed as he watched the phallus retract back into its home, once again revealing a long, wet, _creamy_ vent. Yes. Even better. He poked his nose in and swiped it along the crack, then returned to his eager licks and nibbles. Garak was saying something, tugging at him, but it was all background noise now. All he could see, smell, and think about was that _taste._ He lapped and then guzzled the pool of mixing fluids. It just wasn’t enough. How could he get more?

Garak was louder now, more adamant and pushing up, trying to squirm backwards and out from under Julian’s relentless attention. A firm smack on the backside smarted, breaking his concentration for the briefest moment. “ _Doctor,_ control yourself. If you don’t begin to show reason, I’m going to have to take drastic action.”

What was he going on about? Julian frowned at the mess in front of his face. There was a cute, white, little puddle in Garak’s chuva. Tentatively, he flicked his tongue out and dipped the tip in. Sparks danced through his mouth that made him giddy. Recommitted, he bent his mouth to the ridge and wrapped his lips around the raised curve.

There was a clattering on the nightstand and a shift in the angle of his partner, then a sharp prick on his neck accompanied by a hissing sound. Then everything went black.

When he came to, he was lying on the stripped bed with a new blanket over his naked and sticky body. His head felt like it was filled with bricks, his nose with wool, and his stomach with gagh so fresh it was still wriggling.

Jadzia was standing over him. “Hi!” she said brightly. “I’m glad to see you’re coming around. We were a little worried there.”

We? 

Garak was on the other side of the bed, meticulously dressed and hair coiffed. 

“How long was I out?” Julian asked. “What happened?”

The Trill and Cardassian shared a look before the science officer answered. “It was only 45 minutes or so. But your respiration got pretty shallow and your heart rate was through the roof.” 

Julian tried to piece together the information. “Am I sick? I don’t get it. I felt fine, Garak and I were-” He snapped his mouth shut. Thank goodness he’d learned to do that eventually. “Ah, I mean, I didn’t _feel_ sick…”

Jadzia sat on the bed next to him. She stole a glance at Garak, then bit her lip and met the human’s eyes. “So yeah. Here’s the thing. As far as I can tell, when whipped cream comes in contact with Cardassian, um, _mucous,_ there’s a chemical reaction that releases an addictive narcotic gas. Well, to humans anyway. Garak was unaffected.”

The human felt his face grow hot. “You mean to say-”

“You got high as a Bajoran prayer kite while eating out your boyfriend, yes.” The Trill covered her mouth, trying to hide her grin, but her eyes sparkled. 

Julian covered his face with both hands. “Oh gods, this is humiliating.”

“How do you think _I_ feel?” Garak broke in. “ _You_ didn’t have to provide multiple samples for testing.” He huffed, something he normally wouldn’t do around anyone else, but Julian supposed he didn’t have much to hide around Dax now. “You really should have thought this out beforehand, Doctor.”

“How was I supposed to know?” the human squawked indignantly. “Do you think someone just goes around putting random foods on various humanoids and seeing what happens so they can write obscure medical journals for xenophiles with a food fetish?” Hearing what had just come out of his mouth, he started shaking with laughter. Before long, the other two joined in.

Jadzia cackled. “That sounds like something _you_ would do. In _fact_ , maybe the two of you should continue experimenting. You could start a whole new field of xenobiology.”

“Well, we never did get to the pineapple rings.”

“Ooh! Worf and I could have sooo much fun with those.”

Garak cleared his throat. Obnoxiously.

The Trill froze. “Oh, I don’t want to forget. A couple things, Julian.” She ticked off her fingers. “One: You’re on water only for the next 6 hours while the rest of the narcotics flush out of your system. Two: Keep some pain meds on hand; you’re going to have some bitching withdrawal headaches over the next few days. And three.” Her eyes flicked to Garak and back. “I recommend not coming into contact with _either_ of the substances that caused this for at least a month.”

The expression on his lover’s face was _priceless._ Julian had never, ever, seen Garak pout before.

Jadzia amended her statement. “At least, don’t _consume_ either of them.”

The tailor looked slightly mollified.

The science officer got up to leave. “And Julian, you don’t get to make _any_ more wisecracks about me and Worf.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of these are so long, I'm beginning to wonder if I should just make them their own fics.  
> Oh! Also, my next ones are mostly sweet. I'm looking for something edgy. Any suggestions? (especially something Cardassian)


	7. Sunday Morning (somnophilia/sleepy sex)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title based on the song by Maroon 5, which kind of fits this chapter

Julian woke up on his side, with a hand around his cock and a finger up his bum. How Garak had managed to make it so far without waking him, he had no idea. But he was already stiff and squirming, so it looked as if this wasn’t a recent development.

“Good morning to you, dear Doctor,” a voice purred in his ear.

“Good- ah. Good morning to you, too? What time is it?”

“0300 hours, I believe.”

Oh good. Plenty of time to get off and return to sleep before a double shift in the infirmary. It was going to be a long day. But this might be a pleasant way to begin…

Cool, dry lips rubbed over Julian’s neck before wetly kissing and suckling at the flesh. Tingles chased up and down his back and scalp while heat stirred in his crotch and pulses of pleasure flitted around his anus. The three-pronged attack melted him into a drowsily writhing mess. 

Garak continued lazily stroking his prick, timed in counterpoint to the insertion and withdrawal of his finger. He described circles with his tongue over Julian’s nape at the same time, his breath hot and heavy over the skin. 

Never let it be said the tailor couldn’t multitask. 

Eyes shut, the human basked in the sensations washing over his body. With Garak spooning him from behind, there was no pressure to return favors or school his expressions. He could just lie in peace and let his mind drift.

The finger inside him popped out, then traced around his rim with an electric tickle. Just the tip slipped back in, and it wiggled, sending mini sparks through him. Garak’s kisses trailed upward to behind his ear. “Shall I keep doing this, or would you like my  [ klisxx ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24949294/chapters/60389701) ?”

Leave it to Garak to use a poetic desert term for his anatomy. But he wasn’t one to normally name it at all, so the mention instantly decided Julian. “I’ll take your stony pillar, if you please.”

There was a low growl from the Cardassian’s throat, and the human could feel it rumble inside his own chest. Soon enough, the wet, tapered point prodded into his cleft. The arm behind him slid up and between them, bracing on his shoulder, while the one that had been stroking temporarily left its task to help spread him open. Julian canted his hips back, dying for the distinct pressure of being entered. Garak shuffled forward, then began a slow insertion.

Julian moaned as the thin tip moved further in, stretching his hole wider as the girth of the pr’Ut increased toward the base. The stretch ignited all of his nerves, and his inner walls constricted around the organ, reveling in the smooth and filling glide of its progression. Once Garak reached the hilt, they both gasped at the same time and held still for a minute, just feeling the heat and twitches exchanged where they were joined. 

It resumed with a few butterfly kisses to Julian’s ear, and a soft brush over the sensitized skin of his erection. He lay there and let the near-giddiness dance under his skin. Garak was still inside him but motionless, and when he squeezed, there was a surprised puff of breath behind him. But nothing more. The human snuggled deeper into his pillow. He could almost sleep like this: a gentle mouth on his neck, soft massaging around his cock and balls, and comfortably stuffed. Floating on downy clouds that were lit from underneath with just the first promise of dawn.

At some point the grasp between his legs grew firmer, the kisses on his neck longer and with more tongue. The ridged chest against his back moved away for Garak to nibble down his neck to the fleshy curve above his shoulder, where the skin was pulled in and tasted.

A fine sheen of sweat broke out over Julian’s skin. He felt fingers work their way up to fondle the crown of his member, encircling and swirling, flicking and dipping into each little crevice.

When the hand stroked back down to take a hold firm of the root and the mouth to suck hard enough to bruise, he shifted into a more active awareness.

The pr’Ut inside him drew out with devilish deliberation, leaving him aching and wanting, until only the tip remained. And just when he thought it might slip out altogether, it began a reverse slide, prodding deeper and deeper inward at a glacial pace. He grasped onto the pillow under his head and tightened up, rewarded by a hiss, grumble, and tremble from behind. He didn’t let up as the member once again retreated and returned; he could feel every centimeter of it pressing into his tissues.

It only took a few more drawn-out thrusts for them both to grow restless. The lunges grew faster and deeper, the strokes more rapid, the breathing shallower. Julian’s nerve endings began to spark in his hands, feet, and groin. The buildup was fantastic. He slid his hand over Garak’s on his prick just so he could feel his lover’s skin under his own. They laced fingers and pumped together in an eager rhythm.

Their movements became more frantic, more rapid as they chased their edges, and Julian panted heavily, crying out with each attack on his prostate. 

Garak lost control of his thrusting and switched into his instinctual shimmy side to side, and Julian soon discovered that from this angle, there was nothing more perfect in the universe.

A surge of adrenaline and hormone-laden blood shot through him, his muscles contracting and straightening his legs. They lifted off the bed as his whole body tensed up and phosphenes exploded between his eyes. The orgasm hit Julian in a way that was unutterably mind-blowing. He wasn’t sure where it began, whether in the balls, the perineum, or the prostrate, but it engulfed him from the core and outwards until his entire body was taut and thrumming in release. His gulping cries came out like coughs, and were loud enough that Garak’s other hand snaked under his neck to cover his mouth. He bit down and felt the ropes of cum shoot out of his throbbing cock. A wash of warm fluid flooded out of his arse as his partner climaxed too.

They quivered together in a tight embrace that slowly loosened and relaxed. As his brain began to reboot, Julian marveled at the fact that they’d come to know each other so well that they could reach their peaks at nearly the same time. Some days, it felt as if he couldn’t even hit the tipping point unless he knew Garak was there, too. He wondered what the older man would say, or if he’d even acknowledge it. Maybe he’d just make a disparaging remark about sentimentality.

But if the return of sweet, almost bashful little pecks over his excruciatingly sore neck were any indication, his dear tailor was just as enamored as he was.

He pulled Garak’s hand up from his softening member and into his chest, and the Cardassian willingly curled back around him. The mess they’d made was warm between them, even if it chilled the sheets a little. Julian found he didn’t care. He was already drifting back off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My original plan was to have them take turns with the kinks. I’m not sure whose idea this was, so I’m just gonna say it belongs to both. That makes Garak next…  
> Which means something Cardassian! It’ll start out interesting, and then get… *ahem* more interesting.  
> ***  
> Late addition: I have friend who read this and came up with a hilarious response but was too shy to post it, so here you go:  
> (to the tune of the old Folgers song)  
> "The best part of waking up, is a finger up your...."


	8. Good Form (workout sex)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ngl. I Googled “lizard mating rituals” for inspiration. I can’t believe I forgot that lizards do pushups.  
> Check out this video. I might have been tipsy when I found it. And when I wrote the second half. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uA7w4wuZgmw

Garak was watching Julian. 

He didn’t normally come to the doctor’s racquetball games, and when he did, it was usually after the stretching and warmups.

But today, the last pair to use the court had run over their time, so Julian and Miles got a late start. 

Garak arrived while Julian was doing pushups.

His eyes widened noticeably, and a faint flush began to appear. He tore his attention away to climb into the stands, but as soon as he was seated, he was drawn back inexorably. 

Julian tried not to make it obvious that he saw his Cardassian paramour ogling him, and snatched a few glances around the room like he was taking everything in. But he caught those gray hands reaching up to the material around his wide, thick neck ridges, and stretching it out a little.

Garak straightening his collar was akin to a human adjusting their crotch.

Trying to hide a smile, Julian switched to one-handed push-ups. 

This time, his lover positively _wriggled_ uncomfortably in his seat.

Miles interrupted the performance. “Julian, c’mon. Stop showin’ off and let’s get started.” 

They played a good game, but Julian hardly noticed. He kept getting distracted by the unwavering attention of a particular spectator. As soon as it was over, Garak met up with him to walk out together. “What did you think of the game?”

“Fine, just fine. You played well, my dear,” the tailor said distractedly. He nodded to the Trill and Bajoran who passed them on their way in for the next game. As soon as they disappeared into the court, Garak seized Julian’s arm and dragged through the door of the locker room. He shoved the human up against the wall just inside, and bit down on his neck.

“Hey! Ow!” Julian exclaimed, more surprised than hurt. But he grabbed the thick waist and pulled it to him, letting the mouth on his skin nibble and suck with enthusiastic diligence. He heard a few taps and beeps to his right, and realized Garak had entered the locking codes on the padd. “Should I assume this has something to do with my pushups?” he queried.

“Mmm.” Garak nipped at his jaw. “My ancestors would use chest presses to lure in potential mates. If a male started making such motions, he was warning others away by demonstrating his physical prowess. The slower the suitor pushed up and lowered himself, the more proficient and _controlled_ and therefore desirable he would be.” His hands roamed downward to cup Julian’s pert buttocks and squeeze aggressively. “To a Cardassian, such an exhibit is highly provocative.”

“So I see,” Julian laughed. He flipped them around, pushing Garak up against the wall to finally engage him in a heated kiss. He ground his hips forward, getting hard at the spontaneity of their encounter. Trailing his lips away and along a cheek, he brushed his mouth over the scaled ear. “If you lay down, I’ll do _more_ pushups for you.”

But rather than comply, the tailor balked. “That floor is freezing! I could never--”

Julian silenced him with another kiss. “Come here, then.” He pulled Garak over toward the showers, where he switched several on with hot water. Clouds of steam billowed into the air. By the time he turned around, the Cardassian was already doffing his outer layers. Julian joined him, and soon they were both naked and pressed up against each other in another heated embrace. 

They lowered onto the tiled floor, surrounded by sprays but not directly under any, with water swirling around and under Garak’s back. Julian lined up lengthwise over him and reached down to fondle the aroused entrance to his partner’s ajan. “God, Elim, you’re so wet already.” His fingers slipped in easily, and he teased at the pr’Ut until it slid out. Garak puffed out a little gasp.

Julian bent his head to lick at the chula, but was in too much of a hurry to pay it much mind. He kissed Garak passionately and then lifted up. Fully aroused, he slid his cock inside his waiting partner. 

Gazing down, he raised up until he was back into the position he’d held earlier, and began performing steady pushups. He plunged in and out of the tight space under Garak’s pr’Ut, their bodies drawing closer and further apart, never quite touching except in that one intimate location.

The man under him smiled saucily. “You have impeccable form, my dear.”

Julian nudged their noses together on his next descent, then moved back. He decreased his pace, starting a slow, measured fuck while staring heatedly into Garak’s eyes.

“Oh Julian. Ju-lin. Zu-lin…” The Cardassian’s speech swiftly devolved into mutters and hisses that the translator didn’t bother with.

He watched Garak slowly fall to pieces under him, heat building within as much as without. Holding his arms straight and locked, he lowered onto his knees and started lunging with just his hips. Garak’s bright blue eyes shuttered closed as his lips started lifting up to meet each thrust. Their pace sped up, growing sloppy and hurried.

Julian unexpectedly found himself knocked off and flipped over onto his back. Garak straddled his waist and slid back onto his throbbing erection, a manic gleam in his eyes. Hands on the human’s chest, he clenched his eyes shut and began riding frantically.

Julian grabbed the gray hips and shoved them forward and backward, enhancing the movements. By the stars, Garak was so hot and pliant like this, head thrown back and muscles loose. Julian’s cock was on fire, flickers of flame rising from the root to the tip. He wanted to sear the tableau into his skin and memory and experience it over and over again forever.

The man on top of him suddenly shoved down around him, hard, and convulsed, crying out over the sound of the showers.

Julian gripped tighter at his waist to hold him in place, then humped upward rapidly into the still trembling ajan, the pressure building and burning until everything condensed into a single point between his legs and burst out in jagged, erratic spurts. He groaned deep in his chest, then sucked in a breath of hot, moist air. “God,” he muttered weakly. 

Garak folded over him, eyes glued to his chest. He licked hungrily over the moisture that had beaded up on the skin. “You _do_ look something like an ancient Hebitian figure at the moment,” he complimented. “But I’m not sure I’m ready to deify you _just_ yet.”

The human gave him a weak swat on the ass. The puddle around them tickled at his scalp. “I can’t help but notice you haven’t got off me.”

Garak sipped more water from the dip under his collarbone. “Mmm. I got off, don’t you worry, my dear doctor.” He ground his hips in and down, rolling a little to each side. “But that doesn’t mean I’m finished.”

“Ahhhmm.” Julian was feeling limp and overly sensitive, but he was still firmly ensconced inside his lover, who had excellent control of a certain set of exquisitely tight muscles. Muscles that were now slowly milking him as Garak started a deep, deliberate glide up and down his body.

The mouth under his throat moved southward, and every time the tailor descended, his tongue rasped over a hard brown nipple. Sharp jabs of what could be considered pleasure or pain shot through him. “Ah! Elim, I-- what are you doing?”

Without warning, Garak had sat up and slid off of him, only to turn around and straddle his waist from the other direction. Julian stared in rapt attention at the gray, scaleless buttocks presented to him, which lifted and then resettled as the Cardassian took his cock back in. Out of instinct more than anything else, Julian bent his legs. Garak leaned over and wrapped his arms around them, pulling Julian’s knees together. His pr’Ut was still hard, and it inserted itself between the compressed muscles. 

Julian had never felt anything quite so arousing before. He watched as the man on top of him slithered forward and back, his dick feeling like it was being gulped down while Garak’s thrust in and out between his thighs. He grabbed onto the legs that were lined up on either side of his chest, planning on squeezing and kneading, but instead his nails dug in as searing electricity shot through his groin. He was definitely hard again, and it felt like if his balls got any tighter something was going to burst.

Garak began humping faster and heavier, the muscles of his rear and shoulders bunching and releasing with an enthralling rhythm. Julian gripped his hips, helping to urge him along faster, but his fingers slid down the slick and shifting skin. They skimmed over the twin mounds and caught again just under each, in the creases. He rubbed his thumbs back and forth, curious how sensitive the area was. The reaction was instantaneous and undeniable. Garak seized up, his back arching and clawed fingers slicing down Julian’s calves. A high-pitched, choked whine broke out of his mouth, and he trembled furiously. 

Julian drank in the sight greedily. He lunged upward once, as deep as he could, and held it, enfolded inside Garak’s clenching ajan until a second spurt of seed was forced out. It was possibly the most intense and agonizing orgasm of his life. 

He released and relaxed, slipping out almost immediately. He tried to say something like, “That was brilliant,” or “What have you done to me,” but all that came out was a jumble of consonants. He gradually lowered his legs, and to his surprise, Garak rode them down until he was lying on top of them. In fact, he felt limp.

Julian awkwardly pushed himself up. The scaly man tucked around him looked like nothing more than a lizard that fell asleep on its branch. He flopped back down again.

How was he going to get out of this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the next two weeks are going to be hell. I can't promise I'll be able to post much. But when I do, it'll probably be a new fic (still kinky), because the next 3-4 chapters that I've been working on kind of make their own story. I'll probably link it to this one as a continuation, like a series. And if it goes on past October, so be it ;)


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